Prologue
A phone rings, loud and insistent; she stumbles out of bed and trips, tangled in her beloved silk sheets. Half crawling, half limping, she makes it to her bathroom and grabs her phone.
" Hello? Andrea speaking." At first, she hears nothing on the other end, but a deep, rich voice responds,
"Andrea Sachs? I am Samuel Linden and I wish to offer you a job."
She inwardly groaned at the mention of her family's name. Her father, Henry Sachs, owns one of the biggest oil and natural gas companies in the United States, making her father, her sister, Ivana, and her, the oldest child, sufficiently wealthy and renowned. She constantly wishes for a different life, a different family, but she is the heiress of one of the world's richest companies and she, quite honestly, wants none of it. She hates the attention, the gossip and rumors, and just wishes people would quit trying to pry into her life.
Strange…she thinks. What could this man possibly want to hire me for? She is a fashion designer, so she has never considered working as an art teacher.
"What, may I ask, would you 'wish' to hire me for?"
"Ms. Sachs, I would like to offer you a position as an art teacher at Manhattan Elementary Have you heard of it?"
Thoughts swarmed her mind, Manhattan Elementary…art teacher…
"I have, actually. Is that the all-boys high school on the Upper West side?"
"Indeed, Ms. Sachs. So, what do you say?"
Grrr…she thinks, I'm not Ms. Sachs, that's my mom.
"Well, it is rather short notice. And, please, call me Andrea. What is the rush? It's only February, right in the middle of the school year."
She heard him clear his thought loudly. "Well," he said in a shaky voice, laced with deep emotion, "Our former teacher, Mr. Connolly, is…no longer with us and, due to this unexpected tragedy. We are missing and art teacher, and, had no one lined up. My sources say you are a highly acclaimed fashion designer and fresh out of college, living without a job, not that you need to…with your father's company and things."
"I'm guessing you don't want an interview?"
"Correct."
"Well…I think that stepping into this without further thinks is unwise. May I get back to you…say on Sunday?"
"Sure, Ms. Sachs…I MEAN ANDREA. Sunday then? Just call back at this number, thank you for considering on such short notice."
"It's OK. Bye now."
She hung up, not waiting for a response. She realized that blood had oozed all over her white phone, but it didn't bother her. What should I do? She thinks.